At the End of the Day
by ZTheTyper
Summary: Young cop Alfred F. Jones is told he will be getting a partner. Since he usually prefers to work alone, this obviously makes him a little tense. When he finally meets his new partner though, he sees that the guy really pisses him off! With time, the two become closer and Alfred develops certain feelings for the Russian. RusAme, fluff, rated for language.


**WARNINGS:** I do NOT own the characters from Hetalia, nor do I own Hetalia; those rights go to the wonderful Himaruya Hidekaz. Alfred being rude, Alfred thinking Ivan's a communist, spelling errors, grammar errors, etc. Language

 **A/N:** Sooooooooo, I decided to write a fanfic for one of my favorite ships! Yeah, it's 2:40am right now so I should probably go to sleep, bit this idea kept poking at my brain until I finally wrote it down. Sorry if it sucks, I'm not a good writer. :P Yeah, the title sucks but I might change it. I have no idea how to come up with titles. If you're reading this after I change it, the title is "At the End of the Day"

* * *

"I'm sorry, what?" Alfred stared, confused. From as much as he understood, he would be assigned a new partner recently transferred. The man sitting behind the desk sighed but continued.

"You'll be assigned a new partner. His name is Ivan Braginski"— Alfred held his hand to interrupt him before he spoke anymore.

"Yeah, I don't do partners." It was true, Alfred often preferred to work alone than with a partner—figuring a partner would just hold him back. The man's face lit up.

"Great, you already have something in common." From one of the desk's drawers he pulled out a manila folder containing reports supposedly about Ivan. Alfred glanced at the folder before looking back at the man handing it to him. He shot him a glare before taking it from him, turning a little and opening it swiftly, somewhat excited. Alfred's expression soon fell as he studied Braginski's files more. He gave a flat look at the man to his left before scanning the documents again.

"Russian?" Alfred questioned, his frown deepening. "Pass." The man gave him a puzzled look.

"And what's wrong with that?" the man said as he quirked a brow.

"Commie…" Alfred's nose wrinkled at the thought of working with him.

"Whoa, he's not a communist, Jones." He massaged the bridge of his nose before lacing his fingers together, taking a breath before looking to Alfred with a serious expression. The blonde quickly straightened up, throwing the folder back on the desk.

"Work with me Jones," he tucked the folder back into the drawer before turning back to Alfred. "I understand that you're… reluctant… to be working with someone after—" Alfred's cold stare effectively shut the man up, he audibly gulped.

"Listen, that's in the past. I've almost completely forgotten about it." He took a steadying breath before sitting back in his chair, arms crossed and his eyes still staring directly at the man.

"The prove it; work with Braginski." Alfred leveled him a look of irritation before grudgingly accepting. He grit his teeth and turned his head to face the wall. The man beamed and spoke of a few more documents to be signed and things to be finalized. Alfred stormed out of the office and picked up his coat that was slung on his chair. It was time to clock out anyway.

* * *

Alfred's mind buzzed with thoughts of what life would be like tomorrow. Tomorrow was the day his new partner would arrive at the department, marking the start of his demise. He tossed and turned a few more times before coming to the conclusion he just wasn't going to get any sleep any time soon and got up for a drink.

His two-bedroom apartment was far from clean. Since he often worked overtime, he rarely returned home; only coming back to sleep and get ready for another day of work. He had no one to return home to at the end of the day so why would he? If anything, he prolonged his return home—talking with his co-workers or going for a drink, anything to return home to an empty house devoid of loved ones.

The cold vinyl floor chilled his feet and sent shivers up his spine. He fumbled around for the light switch, finding it and flipping it on. He waited for his eyes to adjust, blinking a few times before approaching the fridge. He gripped the fridge handle and pulled it open, revealing bare shelves except for a single carton of milk. Sighing in defeat, Alfred shut the fridge and collapsed in the wooden chair of his two-seat wooden table, rubbing his eyes.

He let his hands slip down the sides of his face, glancing at the digital clock of the oven. _4:35am_ , it read. Alfred groaned in agitation, running a hand through his hair before returning to the darkness of his bedroom after shutting of the kitchen lights. He settled in the comfort of the warm blankets before finally drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Alfred walked irritably through the front doors of the police department he had grown so accustomed to. Everyone avoided his gaze and instead turned to look in the direction where officers were gathered in the break room, celebrating. The young blonde squinted in the way of the merry-making before advancing toward the crowd and pushing through in hopes of getting a little early morning coffee.

When he reached the center he bumped into someone's chest, definitely male. He looked up and was met with violet eyes, somewhat fitting with the pale skin and hair. He quickly stepped back, noticing how everyone now spoke in hushed tones.

"Greetings," the taller man of the two said with a noticeable accent. Alfred adjusted his glasses, studying the man's features before striking realization: this man is the new transfer.

Quickly he apologized and put on a cheery smile; albeit fake, but it looked sincere to outside eyes. The Russian's smile seemed innocent, but still it sent chills down Alfred's spine, forcing him to look over the man's shoulder instead of directly at him. Something felt… off about him.

Soon they were both summoned into the chief's office. Alfred had to skip out on his coffee, making him even more irritated. It pissed him off how the Russian could be in a cheerful mood. _He must be a morning person_ , which sucked since Alfred typically despised waking up in the morning and this cheery new partner wouldn't help him reach peace.

Both were seated in front of the chief's desk, Alfred fit the chair fine while—he turned to the Russian and became even more pissed. Alfred prided himself at reaching a decent height of 5'9 while the man to his left was both taller and looked more fit than him (despite Alfred's workout sessions he doubted he'd be able to get to the same muscle mass), which usually tended to tick him off. After a minute of Alfred glaring at the unaware Ivan, the chief spoke up.

"So," he stretched out the word, taking notice of the atmosphere. "I assume you've met already." Alfred didn't even give him as much as a glance, instead staring Ivan down.

"Da," Ivan spoke, turning to look down at Alfred who immediately turned himself in his seat to look at the chief.

"I'm going to take that as a 'yes.'" The chief took a few files from his work space, tossing them in front of the two. Both reached for it before Alfred snatched it from Ivan's grasp, sending him a heated glare. Ivan looked amused and responded with the same creepy smile. The chief sighed before looking to Alfred to see if he'd accept the case. Luckily for him, the case seemed to be exactly something Alfred would be interested in. The sandy blond man put down the case folder with bright eyes and a smile.

"We'll take it." The chief nervously laughed before pushing the folder closer to Ivan, suggesting he look at it before Alfred made their final decision.

"Looks interesting," the Russian responded. Alfred rolled his eyes, uncaring of the other's opinion.

"Great," the chief dismissed them from his office for them to start the case. The two walked out, Ivan holding the case folder while Alfred grabbed his keys, laughing as he made his way to the driver's seat of the car. The chief watched from his window and massaged his temples, hoping for the best.


End file.
